


Why We Fight

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, If I can manage the angst, Possibly some spite, jaime lannister is alive clown club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-03-20 09:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18990340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: A tv canon divergent story picking up after 8.05 just because.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I'm sorry this is another tv canon fix it story. I'll be back to weird AUs soon enough, I just couldn't leave all this disappointed spite and bitterness in my head. 
> 
> Secondly, I still haven't brought myself to watch the finale, though I've read reviews and seen gifs etc, so this is strictly canon divergent from 8.05. I hope it makes sense and I don't have too many plot holes or odd characterisation. 
> 
> I'm still writing it, so updates may be sporadic but I will get them to a happy ending, promise. 
> 
> Anything you recognise doesn't belong to me, as always I'm just borrowing things to give our favourite characters the chance to be together for longer than they were given on the screen. 
> 
> PS: Bran Stark is a villain in the making and no one will make me change my mind :)

Too many moons had slipped by since Jaime Lannister had last stepped foot in Kings Landing, and, yet, it felt like not enough time had passed at all. He never thought he would want to return to the site of his supposed death, but there was only so much a healed man could do on The Quiet Isle and, although grateful to the brothers who had saved his miserable life, Jaime had left too many things unsaid to stay away from Westeros for longer.

Yes, he was back for a reason, but, as he quickly ducked behind a cracked column to avoid a coming patrol, it was one that didn't include getting caught by a city watchman or having to explain his presence to the redheaded girl living in the only tower still standing. Jaime wasn't sure how Sansa Stark would react if he had simply walked through the ruined gates and reiterated his loving allegiance to her sapphire eyed sworn sword. If she was anything like her mother, and Catelyn Stark had been the fiercest of she wolves, he'd have bet the last dragons in his pockets that her judgement would include more time in a dark cell with only a shit bucket for company.

One thing was clear though; he should have never left the fucking frozen north in the first place. He'd barely been able to admit it to himself after the battle for Winterfell but there was happiness to be found up there, in the arms of a woman he'd come to love. Despite his complaints about the temperature, he'd been truly happy for maybe the first time in his life. And it had always been warm in their bed.

The boy that was once Brandon Stark hadn't warned him that his last thoughts before the keep came down on top of him would only be blue blue blue though he had spoken of other things.

"The things we do for love," Jaime muttered, pulling his hood tighter to his head, the words still tasting bitter on his tongue. The boy had told him of this outcome, but there hadn't been time for Jaime to do more than destroy his chance at lasting love when he was also to take responsibility for the time he spent supporting Queen Cersei, close a circle of honour by ringing the city bells in surrender and repeat the past by protecting his brother. Ser Brienne could protect herself, he knew, and there was no need her following him to the grave if he'd told her the truth of the the boy's mission. She didn't deserve that future just as much as he wouldn't have deserved her trust.

That didn't stop him missing her, though. The way her eyes would light up when she smiled, the gentle affection she would give without expecting any favours in return, even the way she snored while he lay awake wondering how he could chose between leaving a city to rack and ruin under the reign of two mad queens or a world where she and their children all lived, but would always hate him. The boy had posed it as an impossible choice but, in the end, Jaime knew it was no such thing. Better a hateful man, a man without honour, die than a just woman who could change the world for the better.

But the boy had lied.

"So," a familiar voice drawled as he turned into what used to be Fleabottom, not completely watching where he was going. "If I get you in, when do you give me Highgarden?"


	2. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sellsword wants paying and a plan is hatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who decided to read this! I know there's a lot of fix it's out there so I just hope mine has something unique about it. I'm hoping to update about once a week, if I can and if work doesn't kick my butt too much in the coming month(s).
> 
> A big thank you to Sandwiches for her research into twinning (turns out I'd read the same articles, lol) and her general positivity.
> 
> The rating change is just to be careful as Bronn is very very sweary, as tv canon tells us :)

"Are you sure that's really what you want?" Jaime asked, guiding them both into a rubble filled alleyway as the sound of regimented boots hitting stone grew louder. "There's a different family to answer to now. I could find you another-"

"Aye, the castle at Highgarden. It's what the imp promised before that fucking dragon swallowed him whole. I thought you were dead, too, before some fucker cornered me on the road back south. You've got some friends in low places, Lannister."

The sellsword looked much the same as Jaime remembered him, the sack of the city and subsequent change in power having seemingly not affected him at all. The Northmen would need spies and mercenaries just as much as the last rulers did, though Jaime didn't expect Lady Stark to offer payment in the form of the Tyrell stronghold as easily as his brother did. After all, even he'd heard the rumours of another rosy heir, an older, crippled son living in exile amongst the snakes of Dorne, and he was sure Bronn and Sansa must have come across something similar, too. He wouldn't have put it past Olenna to play her final card long after her death.

"You'll need to give me some time."

"None of us are getting any younger," Bronn pointed out. "But at least I can watch you die trying this time. I can always take your head up to the new girl in charge, see if she'll give me something for it. See if your giant blonde needs comforting," he shrugged. "So how did a cunt like you survive a roof falling on him?"

Jaime found himself gritting his teeth. If Bronn thought he could lay even an unwanted fingertip on Ser Brienne and come away with everything intact then he had seriously misjudged what the she was capable of. If she still had Oathkeeper, had kept the twinned sword he'd left behind for their twins, though she wouldn't know that was the reason, Brienne would stay unstoppable, untouchable for many years to come. Or at least she would if there weren't other stories the boy, the Queenmaker, the acting King in the North, had fabricated while making sure all the living pieces had been moved into the perfect places.

Jaime smiled before the memory of a potential future could overwhelm him, slow and cruel. "My brother...There was a boat." And a Fleabottom born smuggler and an island of septons. "We need to get off the streets."

"I know somewhere," Bronn replied, not even waiting for Jaime to ask where the whorehouse was before picking out a haphazard path around chunks of crumbling masonry, leading them further into the resurrected part of the city. He didn't exactly trust the sellsword not to find a way to double cross him again but Jaime was hoping the idea of the second richest stronghold in the land was worth more than a few bags of gold dragons. He doubted the lady in the tower would care more than that but he couldn't be sure.

Stepping over a desiccated body, they marched down what used to be the Street of Sisters, all the while Jaime keeping a watchful eye out for danger, but they'd barely started on their journey before Bronn was knocking out a melodic rhythm on a freshly painted door the colour of dragon fire.

"The rats that fled all came running back when the redhead and her men, and your woman, rode in like something out of a fucking song."

"Including you."

"And you." He looked over his shoulder, shaking his head at Jaime. "'There was a boat.' Fucks sake, I thought you Lannisters were supposed to the clever ones. How did you keep your peasants in line if you can't even tell them a decent story?"

"I didn't. My father had men for that."

Bronn knocked again. "Fucking Lannisters."

"What are you-" the girl in the open doorway hissed, glancing between the two men until recognition dawned in her golden brown eyes. "Get inside now, the pair of you, before someone sees."

"I don't know why that-"

"The little birds are everywhere."

"Still?" Jaime asked, sparing a kind thought for Varys, who'd helped more than he had hindered over the years, as he brushed past rail after rail of colourful costumes that were hugging the walls as he moved deeper into the rooms beyond the overly set up jewellery shop facade. Theatre troupe, not whorehouse, he mentally noted as his fingers rubbed over the silken sleeve of a simulated sapphire suit of armour. It was too fake to fool anyone who got close enough but the reminder of what he had willingly given up still made his heart hurt.

Not so willingly tricked into giving up, he mentally corrected, as that seemed closer to the truth now. Two Starks, two children, wouldn't have stayed in charge for long without a decent army behind them and an even better sworn sword. Bran Stark's need for Brienne to protect his family, and his reign in the north, had become more important than Jaime's love for her, the future he'd promised would come to pass if Jaime didn't leave merely a final twist of revenge for putting him on the path of rule in the first place.

"Sometimes it's done well, other times badly, but there is always a master of whispers."

"That's all well and good but I'm not sure what any of this has to do with getting me in," Jaime said, patience rapidly disappearing, waving his hand at the stuffed elephant heads and blunted Dothraki arakhs. "We're too far away for there to be a secret passageway even into the ruins."

"Can't have you running around looking like some little lost lordling," Bronn retorted. "Cara here's about to turn you into some unimportant hedge knight from fuck knows valley so you can ride in there asking to serve under the Starks' famous blue beauty."

"Don't." Jaime growled, coming to a complete standstill in the alcove that must have doubled as the girl's dressing room. There were no real weapons in the space and he suddenly wished he still had his golden hand, just to smack Bronn with. "You. Call. Her. That."

"Whole city's calling her that. Think some of them might mean it. You might actually have some competition this time."

Jaime narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this."

"Of course I am. Never thought this day would come," Bronn laughed, picking up two bottles of thick liquid from the girl's overflowing table of mummers tricks. "Now, do you want to be a brunet or a redhead for the day?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll meet Brienne in the next chapter, though it'll take a little longer for them to be in the same room together again. I hope that's okay.


	3. Brienne I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne meets with Kings Landing's new maester and thinks over the last few months of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having some work problems so I'm sorry this has been posted a little later than I'd have liked. The next few chapters are written though, I just have to work with Sandwiches to get them to where I'd like. 
> 
> Hopefully you all like this one :)

"You need to rest," the maester told Brienne in no uncertain terms. The morning after they'd spent an entire day standing behind Lady Sansa, as she welcomed guest after guest back to the capital, every inch of her long limbs had ached enough to seek him out.

"Rest and not to worry so much," he continued with an amicable smile. "The wars are over, my Lady Ser, there's no need to fear the dark anymore."

She frowned. There was a world of difference between fear and grief, and Brienne was surprised the young man had not been taught the nuances of pain during his training. The wars had not taken away her chance for a happy life but something else, or rather someone else, had. Yet still, as four moons had waxed and waned, she couldn't bring herself to think too heartlessly of the man once known as Kingslayer, even if others still judged their daily consummations of love. Their shared chamber had been an open secret back in Winterfell, a situation tolerated but not approved of, waves of disappointed fury rising off Lady Sansa as Brienne began to show signs that Jaime hadn't meant for her to be completely alone in the world after all.

Though the Starks had pushed her to try, well before Bran set up his own small council in the north and Arya disappeared back to Essos, sword in hand, Brienne couldn't truly hate him. She couldn't hate what they both had wanted, for the time they had spent together in Winterfell was far more than she'd ever hoped to have. With him or anyone else. The words of her septa, spoken long ago, had reverberated over and over in her head the night Jaime had ridden away, reminding Brienne that she only need look in a mirror to see why any man brave enough to offer his hand in marriage would quickly grow tired of sharing her bed, the damage done to her expectations of love even before he'd found the courage to kiss her.

Though Jaime, with no promises other than the three little words he liked to whisper into her hair while she was half asleep, had still sought her out morning, noon and night for weeks before the news of his queen's power play had come to them on dark wings. And prior to Lady Sansa receiving those words and sending her cousin away with a doomed defence strategy, Brienne had been no stranger when it came to seeking out the object of her love, her desire, either. Jaime had seemed so content, so happy, but even as she begged him to stay, he was unable to accept what was and what could be, still dwelling on a past he no longer had to be a part of.

No, Brienne would never forget the reasons why he left, why he thought he had to break her heart, but he was not a man to be hated. And she would make sure her children knew that.

Maybe, in time, she could forgive herself for loving him so deeply in the first place. Maybe she could even forgive herself for not being confident enough in their love to follow him south.

The maester's smile had turned too soft, too fake, when he repeated the question she'd been too caught up in memories to acknowledge the first time around. "Remind me again, when do you think the conception took place?"

"Winterfell. After the Long Night, before Kings Landing fell."

"I see. _They_ are snowflakes then."

Brienne scowled in reply. Lady Sansa had referred to other children created post battle as 'snowflakes' on multiple occasions, joyful bastards made in the days and nights following their win over the armies of the dead but bastards nevertheless, the word spoken with just enough scorn to sit uncomfortably with Brienne. So, she had decided, late one night as she lay awake, feeling the first signs of life fluttering in her belly and realising, amongst all the worry, that she needed to keep them safe, that as soon as she was able to travel after the birth, she would ask to be released from her vows and return home. Once back on familiar ground, Brienne doubted there would be much to do to make sure that her offspring were accepted 'of Tarth' like the fatherless Mormont girls had been claimed, wholeheartedly, by Bear Island before them.

"I just need one more thing from you, Ser."

Her hands clenched into fists as he continued to check and double check his measurements, mumbling all the while, finding she had to exhale deeply before settling her palms protectively over her gently swollen stomach, one for each child Jaime had left her to raise. Lady Catelyn had warned her of the unique battles that women faced but, back then, untouched and unloved, Brienne had not seen a birthing bed in her future. "Are the babes...are they not healthy?"

The maester shot her a quizzical look as he scribbled down a sentence or two in his ledger. He had only been in Kings Landing for just over a moon, new to his hard-earned chains when he'd been summoned from the citadel, and was still coming to terms with how easy it had been for Bran to diagnose Brienne's pregnancy without even needing to look at her gently swollen abdomen. 'A blue eyed boy and a green eyed girl,' he had told her the morning she'd left Winterfell, and there'd been no reason for any doubt. The boy had never lied.

" _They_ may still come early but they should be fine if you promise to rest."

"Lady Sansa-"

"Will survive without your constant presence," he insisted, closing his ledgers and indicating she could cover herself up again. "You can attend her, but not all day and not without regular breaks. Believe me, you will be wanting all the time you can get for yourself after they arrive."

"I will not be handing my children off to a wet nurse as soon as they are born," she hissed, suddenly furious, the swirling of her emotions having become a constant fight for sense. "I am not like the other ladies you have seen. I want to be a mother to these babies."

"No one doubts that you do," he replied, baulking at both the anger in her words and the sharp knock on the door. "It seems another is in need of my help, My Lady. I will see you again in a few days, but until then you must find time to rest."

"I-"

The knocking grew more insistent, a bowed head nervously appearing around the door a moment later. "Lady Sansa asked me to find you," he told the maester quietly before turning to address Brienne. "A group of Westerlands k-knights have requested an audience with you, Ser, and they will not leave until you meet them."

She sighed. Rest would have to wait.


	4. Brienne II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been away from this a little while longer than I would have liked but, honestly, there was a couple of weeks there that I almost lost my love for these two and it really halted my writing. Add in a manic time at work, some set backs with my health, and an altogether shitty summer, and it means that it's only now that I'm starting to get back on track. 
> 
> Thank you to Sandwiches, as always, for her reassurances :)

It wasn't a daily occurrence, but knights showing up out of nowhere was happening more and more often now that the men and women of the north had started to bring stability back to Kings Landing. Brienne knew they were there mainly to pledge their allegiance to Lady Sansa, to promise that they would obey her laws and raise no arms against her, but as acting head of her guard the duty of accepting those promises usually fell to Brienne. Never mind that she wasn't a politician, her status as heir to one of the last old houses still standing, knowledge she'd gained from a close relationship with her father and respect earned during the longest night meant she was, she was assured, the best person for the job. It remained, however, a role that sat uneasily on her broad shoulders.

"Did these men say where they were from exactly?" she asked the serving boy as he held open the door for her to pass through, inwardly cursing at how ungainly she was feeling after the maester's examinations. Her armour was already straining to fit and she didn't want to wonder how much bigger she would get in the weeks to come, let alone what others might have to say about it.

"I believe one of them mentioned Ashemark, Ser."

A fresh wave of painful recollection swirled in her stomach. Jaime had been little more than a task she was honour bound to carry out when Brienne had last heard of the western town, long before his maiming, Oathkeeper and the bear pit. She still didn't know if his attempt at their accent had even been close to accurate. Brienne thought she felt one of the twins bumping into the other as a sympathetic swirling in her belly added to her normal morning nausea, as if too many thoughts of their father were making them restless, and she found she needed a moment of stillness before being able to continue towards the temporary Great Hall.

"Did Lord Daven not send a raven in advance of their arrival?" she enquired. Daven Lannister was nothing like his cousins; lacking arrogance, a sharp tongue and a taste for Arbor Gold, but he was doing a more than adequate job of acting as warden of the west. "Surely he should be aware of which men were coming here? If they came on his behalf, that is."

"I'm sorry, Ser. He did not."

Brienne frowned. "That's very unlike him. Are you sure these are Westerlands-"

"We got a message from Casterly Rock this morning," Podrick interrupted breathlessly, having bounded down the stairs and along the narrow hallway like one of the oversized dogs Lady Sansa had insisted on bringing with them. "But the men he sent weren't expected to reach us until next week."

"That can't be true. The raven must have been delayed."

"I could go ahead and check their banners?"

Despite being a knight in his own right now, Pod seemed to prefer the days when he was assigned to assist those he considered friends, the idea that even those Lannister adjacent should repay their debts having clearly stuck with him. Especially since he now knew their acts of bravery had kept him alive, hers and Jaime's, from the moment he'd been entrusted into her care to the moment they all stood surrounded by the dead that would never rise again, he was more determined than ever to do what he could to make life easier for her and the twins.

Though Brienne needed no protection whilst they were safely inside the tower walls, he insisted on waiting outside the maester's quarters during her twice weekly meetings there just in case. In some ways she was grateful. There may have been no blood tying them together but he was the closest thing she had to family anymore.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Sers they didn't offer any banners."

"Hedge knights?"

She could see the cogs turning in Pod's mind as, for once, he found it easy to keep up with her shortened stride. "There hasn't been a hedge knight since well before the Night King walked into Winterfell. You said so yourself."

She had. The nights were long in the capital, spring still a dream away, and she had recently taken it upon herself to tell the same kind of stories she'd loved as a child to the orphans and homesick squires. In them the knights were gallant, maids beautiful, and the sun always shining, for winter never came for those important enough to be immortalised in such tales. There was no need to speak of her own experiences but Pod had prodded, and so she had offered them a fictionalised version of Renly's Rainbow Guard, minus the wager for her maidenhead but with added jousting and competitive hedge knights.

"Mercenaries then," she decided. "Remember how easily The Golden Company was persuaded across the Narrow Sea by the Lannister Queen." Though there was nothing she could do to change the past, change the choice he'd made and mend her heart before it had been broken, Brienne still couldn't bring herself to say Cersei's name aloud. "They can't all have perished in the fire. And there'll be other men, from the Free Cities or maybe even as far as Valyria, who would do well with the blessing of our Lady."

"But they didn't come to see Lady Stark, Ser," the serving boy insisted. "They asked for you by name."

"It wouldn't be the first time that's happened," Pod piped up before she could open her mouth to respond. "Ser Brienne is a war hero."

"And Ser Podrick is exaggerating," she insisted as suspicion lead her thoughts down a darker path. Lady Sansa did need to bolster her forces, despite the tentative peace agreements between the kingdoms, but there was no honour in accepting men with shifting loyalties. Who knew when they would turn tail and disappear back to someone they'd be more willing to die for.

"But I think he had a point," she continued, trying not to glare at the young messenger who would not make the same mistake again. "If these men are here for genuine reasons then they surely won't mind that, in my current condition, one of my most trusted knights has gone ahead to welcome them into the castle."

Pod nodded, solemnly tightening his sword belt, and galloped away like he had the hopes of the Seven themselves behind him.

He wasn't gone long, though, before he rushed back to her side, grinning wildly. "You really need to see this for yourself, Ser. Ser Jaime, he's...he's here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next few chapters won't be two months apart again!


	5. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A case of two steps forward, one step back but I wanted to show Jaime's state of mind before we move into the true reunion. I hope that's okay! 
> 
> Thank you so so so much to everyone who's been reading, commenting and kudos-ing! And thank you again to Sandwiches for her keen eye and general helpfulness :)

Jaime couldn't stop pacing around the dusty, window lined receiving room like one of the caged lions his ancestors had kept in the menagerie beneath Casterly Rock. Despite having ridden into many a life or death situation during his years as a commander, he'd not felt the same level of nerves since signing up for his very first tourney at fourteen; heart pounding in his throat, stomach swirling like a stormy sea, palm sweating beneath his mock leather glove. Arthur Dayne had been the one he was trying to impress that day, so many years ago, but finding a way, any way, back into Brienne's good graces was far more important.

Although the Elder Brother had warned against it while his left arm was healing, repetitive strikes from the crumbling keep doing damage to muscles in both his shoulder and forearm, he still should have tried harder to write to her, even if he had no real means of persuading one of the brothers to transcribe the words he needed her to hear. Useless as it might have been, at least he would have exhausted all his options before setting sail.

Scuffing his badly fitted boot along the floor, Jaime felt his lips curling into a rueful smile, scoffing at himself for thinking that way. He couldn't change the past, only Bran Stark had that ability and the boy would likely be unwilling to meddle just so a simple letter could be sent. Besides, Brienne was as stubborn as a mule at times, one of the many traits he'd grown to adore in the time they had spent together, so she may have doubted that anything legible could come from the same dishonourable, hateful man who'd loved her and left her only to be declared dead mere weeks later. And, if he was being honest with himself, he was grateful the brothers hadn't pushed him into making amends until he was ready to face up to his mistakes.

There was always the possibility that Brienne would have rejected him straight off had he sent a raven so soon after their altercation in the yard at Winterfell, making him fear he would never see her again. And that fear had stayed his hand too many times to count.

"Do you think they've forgotten about us?" the taller of the two sellswords accompanying him asked suddenly, the other quietly picking up glittering shards of coloured glass from in front of the fire. "Bronn said we'd still get paid even if you don't get to see your woman."

"I'm not sure when that-"

"Ser Podrick of House Payne," an attendant announced, cutting off Jaime's intended curse. "Sers Lyle and Gerold of House Lannett and Ser Tyland Hill."

Dropping the hand he'd started to run through his darkened hair, red too much like a Tully for comfort, Jaime bowed his head in acknowledgment as his mummers name was last to be announced. Though drops had been poured into his eyes to push their usual emerald green colour closer to hazel brown, artists putty smudged along the bridge of his nose and cheekbones completely changing the shape of his features, borrowed clothes cheap and road worn, there would be no mistaking the feel of his padded right hand glove if Brienne's squire ventured close enough.

"I have heard many tales of your exploits with Ser Brienne in the North," Jaime greeted the young man in a gruff, uncultured voice, a world away from his own. "They say we should be thanking the north for sending away the last dragon."

"And for keeping away the grumpkins and snarks," snickered one of the sellswords behind him, just loud enough not to be heard by all in the room. "Don't know what we would have done if they'd managed to march all this way south."

"Thank you, Ser," Pod replied. "Though, in all honesty, you should be thanking Ser Brienne. I am...was just a squire at the beginning of the winter."

"Then we should like to thank her in person. We were told that we could swear our oaths to a member of the house guard if the Lady Stark was unavailable."

"Ser Brienne is...She is currently meeting with one of Lady Sansa's advisors. But if you let me take your banner for our maester to look over, the servants can bring you some meat and mead while you wait."

"Sadly, House Lannett is too small to have such a thing. We travelled from the Westerlands with naught but the clothes on our backs."

"All the way from the Street of Silk, more like," came another rumble of amusement from behind Jaime.

"We were also told there was a chance we could be given lodgings while in the city but we have had to do with what we could afford until now," Jaime continued, gritting his teeth.

Pod beamed. "I can have that arranged, I think."

"Have you actually seen his woman?" one of the men whispered, Jaime feeling a knot of tension run through him when the other made a grunt in the negative. "There are prettier farm animals."

"She must be something special for him to go to this trouble to get her back," his friend chuckled. "Maybe she's good on her back. Or with her mouth."

Jaime had heard enough. Spinning around, his temper finally flaring to life from the embers of frustration and fear that had been sparking since setting foot in the tower, he fixed them with a steely glare. If only he still had his heavy, golden hand. "Don't you dare speak of the lady like that. She is a knight of the seven kingdoms and she deserves your respect. She deserves to be called by her name."

He might have heard Podrick gasp, might have heard him question his name, but Jaime wasn't finished with his tirade just yet. "And if you'd been in the north you would not be treating those who lost, or risked, their lives like a jape. You don't know what we saw up there after night fell. You don't know how hard we tried to give everyone a chance only to end up with supposed rulers who wanted to sacrifice the city so they didn't lose face, burn you all in your beds, or exile themselves away from what should have been slander and hate after killing people they once admired."

He crossed the room in three easy, stalking, strides, stopping under one of the square windows to loom over the smaller of the sellswords. "Instead of an honourable woman or a just man you have two orphaned northern children making decisions for the good of the realm, and I wouldn't care only those children have held 'my woman' hostage to her vows long enough. Even if she doesn't love me anymore, I can still do everything in my power to get her back to the island she was born to rule."

"Ser Jaime?" Pod's voice was soft, though not without a certain amount of joy. "We thought...Is it really you? Lord Tyrion said you'd died in the Red Keep."

Jaime scrubbed a hand across his painted face, there was no use keeping up the ruse now. It had gotten him through the door and that was going to have to be enough. "It's me, Podrick, I swear."

"I don't know how...she won't know how...I have to go, My Lady Ser is never going to believe this if she doesn't see it."


	6. Brienne III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sandwiches again for her help with this one. It was incredibly easy to draft but needed loads of little tweaks to bring the exposition and character based things into balance. I can only hope everything makes sense, especially with regards to explanations and the beginnings of forgiveness.

"Where is he?" Brienne asked, hating the desperately breathless tone her words had taken on. Her heart, though no longer technically belonging a maiden, was still tender and even the mention of Ser Jaime's name had sent it soaring.

"They put him in the hall's side chamber. He looks..." Podrick blinked. "Different. But it's him, I swear. I've never heard anyone speak of you the way he did...does."

"Take me to him. Please."

The maester had warned her that too much excitement would be bad for the babies, but she couldn't bring herself to slow down for fear this was all a terrible dream and she would wake up long before she saw his face again. It had been a while since she'd had those kinds of nightmares, after she had taken up her position as commander but before Brienne had known about the children growing inside of her, though she had longed to see him again, the repetitive horrors still visited her far too often whenever she closed her eyes.

However, even in the depths of her darkest despair, working through a variety of doomed fantasies where different choices were made, like time was slowing down as she waded through quicksand, a little voice in the back of her head warning that any extra effort to overcome the inevitable would just result in more heartache, not every step forward had felt harder than the last. She'd been hurt before; bruised, bitten, cut to the bone, and Brienne knew only the Seven themselves would stop her from reaching her intended destination.

The side chamber was regularly used to host guests Lady Sansa wanted to intimidate just enough, though not to the point of having them return home without swearing fealty. It wasn't a method Brienne's father had needed to use back on Tarth, but after years in the wilds of Westeros she understood the need for a young woman to show strength in front of more experienced men. Especially when the Dornish and Westerlanders in particular did not remember their loyalty to the Stark wardens, wives or friends that had come before their current crop of rulers.

The men inside that evening did not look intimidated in any way despite every attempt to unsettle them, however. Battle hardened and broad shouldered, she could see how their triumphs as well as their losses had left a mark on their lives. These weren't Daven Lannister's envoys, that was clear, but even that sharp realisation didn't stop the darkest brunet from catching, and holding, her attention as he turned away from the wall.

"Ser Jaime?" she whispered, tears prickling behind her eyelids as she blinked away the last shred of doubt Lady Sansa had fostered in her mind. He'd once asked her to curse him or kiss him, back when they shared a life altering experience in a bath tub just as they'd found enough common ground for a truce, and Brienne wasn't sure which she wanted to do first. In truth he probably deserved neither, but only one man had ever looked at her in that special, clear eyed, heartfelt way and she found herself willing to hear his story, even if it meant she had to rebuild the protective walls around the softest parts of herself at the end of it. Brienne just wished the slow, sad smile stretching across his lips, lips she would recognise anywhere, didn't also make her think about the time they'd slipped into the baths at Winterfell for another life alternating experience, this time with a climatic ending of an altogether different sort.

"Yes, Ser Brienne," he said, something familiar in his off colour eyes making her chin begin to wobble, the pull of muscle memory too strong to ignore completely. "I'm not surprised how well the white cloak suits you, my lady," Jaime added, looking her up and down. "Though it is disappointing that the blue armour had to be replaced."

Swallowing the desire that made her want to pull this strange looking man into her arms, Brienne settled on folding them across her chest instead, squaring her shoulders. "What are you doing here, Ser Jaime?"

"I'm..." he trailed off, the apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you earlier."

She couldn't stop staring at him, her fingers twitching to wash the dirt from his hair and face even as she tried to maintain a safe, professional distance. It was undeniably Jaime, Arya's faceless men would have better tricks if someone truly felt the urge to hurt her. "Pod, can you-?"

The young man jumped into action without her even needing to finish the question. "Ser Lyle, Ser Gerold, if you can follow me we can try to find you somewhere to sleep for the night."

"He still needs to pay us half," one of them grumbled as Podrick tried to usher them out of the room, all the while allowing Brienne to study the new scars on Jaime's face, not even half hidden by whatever disguise he'd sought out to hide his identity from all but those who cared enough to not be fooled.

Only a handful of people Lady Sansa had brought with her south would have known him at first sight anyway, the knights currently taking up too much space in the room cum holding cell chief among them, and perhaps only the Lady herself and a sibling or two would have wanted to cause him actual physical harm.

That number would have increased if he had information that might have threatened the hold the Starks had over most of the kingdoms, but he didn't look like he'd risen from the dead just to play the game of thrones again. If she was being honest, he looked exhausted and that fact was almost as hard to swallow as knowing he'd been alive for all this time and hadn't found a way to let her know.

"He will," she promised the man, not glancing away from Jaime for even a single second. "You can trust him. A Lannister always pays his debts."

Even if this didn't appear to be the same man who'd kissed her so impetuously after finding any excuse to come to her chamber that first time, or the man who rode away from Winterfell with a death wish and self hatred weighing him down, or even the man who had made her wildest dreams come true by resting a sword on each of her shoulders, Brienne knew they could trust him. Whether or not she could trust him with her heart again was another matter entirely.

"I can also assure you Ser Jaime will still be here in the morning," Pod added briskly. "Now, why don't we stop off at the kitchens first, there should still be some rabbit stew leftover and there's always ale."

The men, sellswords she decided, grumbled amongst themselves for a moment or two before agreeing to give Jaime the evening to reacquaint himself with his 'lady love' and returning at first light for their payment. It would be a long wait, especially as the last few days had seen little change from a grey dawn to an overcast dusk, and though she was grateful for his help, she only hoped Pod knew what he was getting himself into.

With their last distraction gone for now, Brienne swore she heard Jaime let out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind the departing trio, leaving them alone at last.

"What are you-?" she started to ask again just as he nodded to the sound of retreating footsteps.

"He's a good lad. You raised him well."

"I'm not his mother," she scoffed in reply, falling back into old habits far too easily in their current circumstances. "I didn't do anything but teach him how to survive in a world that regularly didn't want anything to do with us."

"You forget that I've seen him fight. And now I've seen him talk his way out of a problem like a proper little Queen's advisor. You raised him very well."

She shook her head, not wanting to argue over trivial things when they had other, more important issues to discuss. "Why are you here, Jaime? How are you here?"

"Through lies and deceit, mainly," he admitted honestly, as Brienne shot him a sharp look that hopefully conveyed how much she hadn't wanted that to be the case. "Though not all my own, you'll be happy to hear," Jaime continued, barely pausing to take a breath as the story flowed out of him like a raging river after a heavy spring snowmelt. "My brother had a hand in the matter, as did Ser Davos and the brothers of the Quiet Isle helped with my rehabilitation. I owe my life to good timing more than careful planning."

"Lord Tyrion never sent word that he found you alive. If he had...I grieved for you, Jaime, I had no hope, no choice but to find a way to live without you." She knew she would have loved him for the rest of her life, had she been given the chance.

"He promised me he would find a way but I'm told he didn't have much time after the city fell. I rang those bloody bells and the whole place still burned for days. I still lost you." He turned away from her then, the green of his eyes finally starting to burn through falsehoods like wildfyre. "I should have known better to believe anything the boy King in the North told me. I should have stayed with you."

Brienne frowned. She had wanted to write him as more of a hero in the new white book but had tempered her feelings at the last moment, knowing that it wasn't a sentiment shared by many others. Love had blinded her for too long, or so she had thought, sitting at a similar table to the one he'd had in his quarters the day he gave her Oathkeeper, but his hand in the ringing of the bells changed things again. "When did Jon Snow discuss strategy with you?"

"Not that child, the other one."

"Bran Stark is not king in the north. The have a Queen."

"In name, perhaps, but in everything else that matters he is," Jaime insisted. "Who else is looking after Winterfell while your Lady is in the South?"

"You don't know-"

"Bran Stark told me I was important, my brother inferred that I was the only one who cared enough to stop King's Landing becoming a mass grave, your Lady even pushed me into believing that Cersei could find another way to win if I wasn't there to take responsibility for my part in everything. I was a fool to believe them."

She shook her head, sighing deeply. "You were a fool, Jaime, but I won't condemn you for it. Why didn't you tell me they were sending you away with an actual task to carry out? You charged me to protect innocents and I would have done my duty, too, if you had just told me."

"I know, I know you would have saddled your horse and ridden with me all the way if I'd have shared the truth with you. But I couldn't risk that. Your life, and the lives of our children were far more important than my own. I wanted to protect you."

"We could have protected each other, Jaime, just like we did at Winterfell. You just had to trust me. Our children are..." she trailed off, glancing down at her stomach. "How did you know about our children?"

"Because Bran Stark told me you would all die if I didn't leave Winterfell alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's been commenting and leaving kudos - it means a lot to see your reactions to this story :)


	7. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne talk some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'm really sorry this is late. I did mean to put this up yesterday but since I've been under the weather a little, I fell asleep so early! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading :) And thank you again to Sandwiches.

Brienne's astonishing eyes widened in surprise as she continued to study the adjusted planes of his face. He found it somewhat gratifying that although she could have easily killed him should she have wanted to, run him through with their sword, she hadn't been able to let him out of her sight for more than a heartbeat since walking into the room.

"How could he know that for certain?" she asked eventually, her voice quiet and unsure. "I didn't even know until long after the city fell. And it would have been another moon or so had Gilly not noticed the changes happening."

"Gilly?"

"The wife of the Night's Watch's maester. She had their second son a few weeks ago."

Jaime nodded, remembering the fat, fearful young man who'd been like Jon Snow's shadow during their time in Winterfell. The fact that he had survived battle after battle with no real training when the Tarly patriarch and heir had fought as fully blooded knights and still perished, made him wonder if regularly praying to the Seven could really act like an extra shield in certain situations. Or if it was Bran Stark with more power over the future than anyone wanted to believe.

"Sam was the maester here for a little while until Lady Sansa's ravens to the citadel were answered. Gilly stayed at Winterfell while we were setting things up but she offered to bring everyone down to Kings Landing to help me, if I needed it." Brienne paused in her explanations, looking as confused as he had ever seen her. "I've never had a friend like that before."

Jaime smiled, feeling something between pride and sorrow. "You had me."

"If you'd stayed my friend I wouldn't be craving Dornish spiced apples in the middle of the night."

"Do you regret it, then?" he asked, taking a step forward as the need to be closer to what was left of his own family became overwhelming. Jaime knew he wouldn't blame Brienne if she did. He'd been gone too long and given time to consider her choices, perhaps she'd decided a dishonourable, one handed, ageing knight who had cravenly abandoned her in a foreign city wasn't what would be best for her or the future of Tarth. The thought had been weighing on him for some time, since the plan to return to Kings Landing had been in its infancy, and though it had almost destroyed his heart, thinking about another set of children he wouldn't get to raise, Jaime knew there was sense in it.

"How can you ask that?" she hissed in response, retreating just as quickly as he advanced, falling into a perfect stance like she was training him how to fight with his left hand all over again. "How can you listen to me talk about grief and despair and still ask that? Am I supposed to regret being happy? Or did Bran Stark tell you what I'm supposed to feel as well as everything else he claimed to know?"

"He swore you would never stop hating me but that leaving would keep you all safe."

"It's been years since I hated you," she said plainly, the emotion on the face he held so dear suggesting Brienne had spoken no word of a lie. "If that was what you wanted to find here then you should have asked to meet with Lady Sansa directly. She seemed determined to find a way to send you to the seven hells after you left."

"If I hadn't known what my sister was capable of I wouldn't have gone, believe me," he shot back, fast as lightning, beginning to pace again as a nervous energy fizzled under his skin. He would have told Brienne all of this before a rift could open between them, but there had been too many promises to keep, too many people to please just like always.

"She'd already sent Bronn north with orders to kill Tyrion and I and the moment she found out about us, adding your name to that list would have been as easy as breathing. She would have never accepted that you had my heart, Brienne," he glowered darkly. " _Never_."

He shook his head, feeling the words tumble out of him. "She'd been losing her hold over me for years, but it wouldn't have mattered, she was Queen and you wouldn't have been allowed to get away with stealing my attention. You didn't deserve a death sentence just for loving me. You deserved so much more than someone like me could give you."

"And what if I wanted something other than what everyone thinks I deserve?"

In all the time he'd spent recovering, Jaime had wasted so long convincing himself that Brienne would likely refuse to see him if he ever returned, so caught up in rage and mistrust of all things Lannister, than any other possible outcome, that he'd completely overlooked the need to prepare a different speech to the one he had just given.

"What _do_ you want, Brienne?" he murmured, eyes narrowing and heart racing as he took the chance to move, step by step, across the room to where she stood, back pressed against the wall like she was waiting for him to give her a reason to flee. The dying fire flickered as he moved, casting longer and longer shadows as whatever dull, grey light could reach the room dimmed, leaving them to face the coming night alone together as they had so many times before.

"I want our children to grow up safe and happy," she admitted quietly, careful to avoid the intensity of his gaze as he settled at her side, staying just out of reach for now though Jaime couldn't deny how much he yearned to hold her again. It would be better for both of them if the last time they'd been in each other's arms could be replaced with something more comforting in their memories. "I want to see Tarth again."

"I've seen Tarth. It's beautiful."

Brienne glared at him, but it was softer, more searching than before. "When did you have time to go to Tarth?"

"We passed it when I sailed to Dorne for Myrcella. It made me dream of you but go on. What do you want, Ser?"

He saw her hesitate as a shiver rolled through her muscles, the wall at their backs much colder than the ones in Winterfell had been. Despite their talk of summer snows and winter coming the northmen knew how to look after themselves and their most trusted guests. And Brienne was the best of them; noble, just and true, the finest commander since Ser Duncan the Tall to grace the pages of the White Book.

"I want to be the knight you charged me to be," she said, her voice unsteady now. "I wanted you...I want you to be your own man now you're free from the obligations of any council. I want to be happy, Jaime."

Brienne sighed, sliding to the floor in exhaustion before turning her head to gaze up at him with all the guilelessness Jaime had come to admire. "Am I allowed to want that much?"

"You can want more."

She considered that with pursed lips, directing her next words into the last glowing embers in the grate. "I-I want... Fuck it, I want to skip the next small council meeting and just sleep for a while."


	8. Brienne IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two steps forward, one step back aka more gettting to know, and trust, each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hard couple of weeks, both at work and at home and I'm feeling pretty down about a lot of things. Due to that, I'm really starting to worry that this is becoming really boring to read, despite Sandwiches help and insistences that it's not. This middle bit is mutating into more of a character study, much talk not a lot of action, with people who want to trust and love but can't quite get to that point yet. I hope that's okay for now. Rest assured, I will do my best to address both Bran and Bronn - even if the former has to do be done in a sequel.
> 
> Thanks as always to the wonderful Sandwiches, who's help and friendship is proving invaluable.

"Then that's what you should do. Just tonight," he said, shuffling slightly sideways before joining her in the dust beneath the windows. "My babies need you to be the strongest, most worthy warrior in Westeros as much as I do. And if that means you need to miss a council meeting from time to time, then that's a small price to pay."

Brienne felt the laughter bubbling deep in her chest, not quite a novel sensation but one that she hadn't really experienced since that fateful night they drank away the last reasons not to act on their feelings. Surprising herself, she allowed the tickle of amusement to become a full throated guffaw before it could be overwhelmed by returning concerns. "Your babies? I don't have any say in the matter?"

"Our babies," Jaime corrected, gently stroking the side of her hand with his little finger as they stole glances at the other. Brienne caught him staring once, twice, before meeting his tender smile with a careful one of her own.

For a few moments they simply sat in the comfort of near silence, almost holding hands and listening to each other breathe, like every night they'd spent together when the time for insults and seduction had long past, leaving behind waves of unspoken love. This was the opposite of the dance they'd played out over the years, too quick to accept the unsaid, almost too good to be true, and half of her wondered if she'd fallen asleep listening to the maester drone on about the benefits of apple core tea again.

Still, as Brienne felt herself leaning into the touch of his calloused fingertips running over her knuckles, she was torn between the Warrior's voice in her head and the Mother's love in her heart. "This isn't where I thought we'd end up."

"You mean you didn't dream of having a heart to heart in a room your Lady clearly forgot to have cleaned when you were a little...littler girl?" he smiled. "I'm shocked."

She rolled her eyes at him fondly. "I didn't dream anyone I lov...cared about would be despised by half the realm for killing a king and revered by the rest for knighting me."

Jaime looked down at the golden armour notched loosely around her torso and then back to her reddening face, all his amusement gone. "Best thing I ever did. You were glorious in that battle and you will be in the next one as well."

Brienne tried to ignore the instinct to shield her stomach from his roving eyes. Never mind that he'd seen her clad in only freckles, it still felt strange to have anyone look at her with anything other than curiosity or disappointment. "You don't know that."

"I have faith in the woman I love."

She pulled away from his touch. "You mean you had faith," she huffed, unable to bear the thought of speaking about love out loud.

"I still do."

"No," she replied softly. "Everything's changing. We've changed." Brienne left the rest unsaid, trusting he knew what they'd felt for a brief moment in time didn't have to be all consuming for the rest of their lives. He came back, true, but he didn't have to stay, if there was even a sliver of doubt in his mind.

"Then let me help. I can't fight anymore but I'm not completely useless."

"Don't say that," she snapped, narrowing her eyes. "You held your own up there."

"As much as any one handed man could, perhaps," he replied, pulling at the badly stuffed glove that someone had buckled to his wrist. How Podrick hadn't immediately spotted the lifeless way it hung from the brutally shortened arm, Brienne would never know. She watched, weary with doubt, as he turned his head to look at her. Jaime had been sidestepping her expectations from the very first day they'd met, but she had no idea where they were headed now.

"You saved me more times than I can count."

"You saved me just as many."

"Stupid, stubborn wench," he muttered under his breath, though they were too close now for her not to hear every word, both of them having subconsciously moved towards the other with every blunted parry and attack that had formed on their tongues. "I was trying to pay you a compliment."

"Just before insulting me?"

He raised an elegant eyebrow as she shot him a withering stare. It was always other people she didn't trust to accept her as she was. Not Jaime. Not for a very long time indeed. "I never said I was any better at giving such things than you are at receiving them."

Perhaps there were _some_ things that would never change, then. "Did you ever think that I might have gotten tired of hearing both?"

"You should never get tired of people recanting tales of your good deeds."

She paused, cocking her head to look at him again. "I wouldn't want my head to grow to match my belly."

"As if you would let that happen," he smiled, his eyes brightening like a sudden thought had dawned. "You know, I used to think being part of all those tales would be the best thing I could ever amount to. But I think now I'd rather not be remembered at all unless it was by the people I love," Jaime announced as he awkwardly rose to his feet, brushing off the dirt from the back of his breeches before offering Brienne his hand and stump.

He pulled her up from the floor, surprisingly, with little difficulty, unable to stop talking now. "Most knights don't get to make that choice if they grow tired of fighting. I can. We can. I didn't want to die on unfamiliar soil without hearing our children's voices or seeing your face again. We can choose."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head sadly. The choice had never really been their's to make. "Has no one ever told you you shouldn't count chickens before they're hatched? Or babies before they're born?"

"I've always been a little slow."

"No, you haven't," she retorted sharply. "Especially not when it mattered."

Deep down, she understood his reticence to return to service, though she hadn't knighted enough honourable boys and girls to agree with it yet. And though most of his contemporaries had died before their time, bones being carried home to be buried or simply burned in the north, there was no denying his experience could be just as useful as part of a quieter, more political life, perhaps on an island that had accepted all the cripples, bastards and broken things that had washed ashore. Moons earlier, it had been a dream for another time, now it was something she couldn't bear to dwell on.

"I'm not sure that's...," Jaime replied, trailing of as he rose onto his toes to press a chaste, gratitude filled kiss on her cheek. If she'd been stronger she would have pushed him away, but Brienne was tired of fighting, too, and she had missed the feel of his beard on her skin. "I'd be honoured if you would let me serve under you again, though it'd be more than I deserve."

She almost bit her lip bloody, swallowing down the knowledge that only the Gods decided what men deserved and they didn't care when good ones died trying to break up bar fights and the worst of all lived to see their grandchildren grown. She knew there would be no exception for them, the Kingslayer and the woman who was willing to take such a man into her bed.

"I rode north for you," he murmured when she had nothing to add, the sound sending lines of liquid fire streaking from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes, warming Brienne through. For a moment she forgot her fears, the years of self doubt, and leaned into his embrace. "You were the only one who made sense," he said.

The words formed almost before she could think them. "I defended you in front of Starks and Targaryens because you were a better man than you believed."

Jaime let out a long breath before he could muster up the courage to reacquaint himself with the warmth of his mouth, feeling him nuzzle into the softest skin behind her ear until she was worried her knees might give out. He truly knew her too well now. "I love you."

"You don't need to say-" she whispered, feeling impossibly caught between heartbreak and hope.

"I do," he replied. "I love you. All I did these last weeks was dream of coming back for you and making things right."

"Jaime," she said as softly as she could muster, shrugging him off her shoulder and stepping back to simply look at him. Whatever magic had changed his eyes had faded away to leave behind irises as green as the grasses that surrounded Evenfall Hall every summer, familiar, welcoming and fleeting all at once. He was still the most beautiful man in all the kingdoms, scarred and humbled and crippled, and though she was an ugly, unwanted woman, he seemed unable to stop gazing at her like there were stars hiding in her deep blue eyes.

A part of her wanted to find any reason not to call another truce, not to keep loving him despite the pain his choices had brought. Perhaps love would always be painful for the likes of her, perhaps her Septa had been right all along and her choice to serve another was the best life she could ever hope for. But as Jaime softly stared at her, Brienne knew, deep inside, in a similar situation she would have perhaps done just about anything to protect Jaime, to protect Pod, to protect Lady Catelyn's girls. She might have even ridden into impossible danger, too, had she been Bran's confidant the way Jaime had.

As her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, Jaime moved to kiss her, the love shining in his eyes making tears sting in her own. "I think all honourable knights should have a pretty maid to come home to, don't you?"

"You think too highly of yourself, Ser," she snorted, her heart pounding painfully in her chest as he stopped before they could touch, untangling himself from her arms and picked up a candle to help light their way back towards the rest of the castle.

His grin was a thing of timeless beauty, one to stop the heart. But it was also one she promptly ignored engaging with. They would be there all night, otherwise.

"I can take you to the kitchens if you're hungry, or find you a place for the night if you're not, I just need to-" Brienne yawned, the emotion of the evening finally catching up with her, no further forward in battling the demons that Jaime had resurrected in her heart.

"Sleep. Come on, sweetling," he all but purred as she moved to meet him in the doorway, the weight of his right arm around her hip pleasant and reassuring despite all the doubts that swirled like a storm beneath her skin. "Let's get you to bed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do let me know if you're still enjoying this. For some reason, these middle chapters are proving very difficult to write.


	9. Jaime IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concerns and considerations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sandwhiches, as usual, for her eye over this. The middle bit always seems to be the hardest. I may even have to add a couple of chapters because of having too much dialogue in here. I'm hoping it'll more positive and forward moving from here on. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented last time! I'm so glad you're still reading this :)

"You have no idea where you're going," Brienne pointed out as Jaime tried to steer her down the corridor, his shortened arm slipping from around her hip as she took a purposeful step in the opposite direction to where he wanted to head.

He froze in place, infusing his words with a confidence he didn't quite feel, all of a sudden realising how exposed they would be creeping through the unfamiliar keep without being detected. He followed her, as he had before, in a different castle at a different time, but the role he was here to play, that he was here to help his lover play, was far more important than any that had come before. The safety of their children, and the world they would grow up into depended on what they did, and soon.

He sighed as the thoughts settled, feeling Brienne stiffen as she changed direction and led him down another corridor, knowing his father would have been proud such things were occupying Jamie's mind, however selfish they really were.

"I found my way to you the first time, didn't I? I'm sure I can I find my way back to your bed, fully sober and with time."

"I'm not doubting that. But can you do it without running into someone who isn't supposed to know you're here?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder to quickly scan his face, swallowing whatever else she was planning to say. "Not that I'm trying to keep you a secret, I know you-"

"No, it's alright. I understand," he said, though even that didn't seem to alleviate all of Brienne's worries if her squared shoulders meant anything. He would always trust her to the ends of the world but he didn't know if he was putting her at more risk by even being here. She might be wise to throw him to the dogs, after all. "If I had wanted everyone to know, I wouldn't have come in disguise. It wouldn't be shrewd to forget about that now."

"We'll go to Sansa in the morning," she insisted, her eyes wide and leaving Jaime wondering if he should reach for her hand. "Once we've figured out how to tell her about her brother."

That, he fully understood. After all he had been through, after all they had both been through, there was no use having history repeat itself. There was no need to keep his presence in the stronghold quiet for longer than a few days, by which time they should have figured out a plan to keep the babies safe and deal with the growing threat in the North. There was also the problem of Bronn still roaming the city, but that particular issue concerned him least of all. There were plenty of abandoned or rebuilding towns that would welcome a lauded knight to watch over them.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he told her after she'd caught a passing servant to ask if it wouldn't be too much of a bother for water to be brought up to her chamber for Jaime, to bathe.

"Then why come back?" she asked, spinning around to face him, blue eyes flashing. "You could have stayed dead, sailed to one of the Free Cities and lived an uncomplicated life away from the scrutiny of the Queen."

"There'll always be another Queen," he muttered darkly. "And the Free Cities were always more of my brother's thing."

"Don't mock me, Jaime. Not now." She nodded sharply at the door he was now standing in front of. "Sansa assigned me rooms on this side of the keep. She thought I'd...I'd appreciate staying close to Pod and the maesters."

"How considerate," he drawled, sounding more and more like his old self. "Well, lead on, good Ser."

"Stop it," she hissed, refusing to even look at him as she unlocked the door, the slight hitch in her voice made him hyper aware of how close to tears Brienne really was. "Just stop it. You say you understand why we can't make a big scene, you think you're doing the right thing, again, you tell me you love me, you haven't questioned a single thing I've asked you to do and _I_ still can't understand why this is happening now."

He shrugged, the gesture lost with no witness that it had even occurred. "I dreamed of you."

*********

The smell of lavender and lemons hit them like a stone wall as Brienne opened the now familiar door, the water in the bath tub steaming invitingly from beside her neatly made bed, a recently stoked roaring fire adding to heated atmosphere and forcing sweat to bead under his clothes. She had told him that taking a bath at the end of a long day wasn't a common occurrence back on Tarth, but it had often been a balm for their battle weary bodies during their time in Winterfell.

"This is nicer than the old Commander's chambers," Jaime remarked, the silence that had fallen between them too heavy not to fill. Awkwardly shrugging off his dirty doublet, hating the tainted memories sparking to life in his head, he tried again. "Only the best for the best, I guess."

"Stop it," she muttered again, shaking her head while glaring at the crumpled pile of leather where he'd dropped it on the floor. "Wash. Unless you'd rather I find you another chamber, to bathe? I can do that, I just need to find Pod and he can-"

"I didn't mean...I didn't want to presume, my Lady."

"A minute ago I was a knight, now I'm back to being a lady?" Brienne rolled her eyes. "There's room enough for us both to sleep comfortably in here, if that's what you're afraid of," she added. "And we can't exactly stride into the hall in the middle of the night to strategise without bringing attention to ourselves."

"I thought you wanted to sleep."

"Your babies don't always let me do that."

Jaime grinned despite whatever concerns were growing between them again, pausing under a smouldering brazier to glance up at her, shadows dancing across her features. "So they're mine again?"

"Ours," Brienne corrected, watching Jaime effortlessly catch the roughly spun towel she'd thrown across the room. "Wash."

"You're not thinking about joining me, My Lady. _Ser_?"

"I don't smell like I've spent a week in a stable. And I don't want to either. You're not sleeping in here in that state."

"But if you didn't want me here, you would have thrown me out already, wouldn't you, Brienne?"

"Of course. Now wash."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
